Sunny Beaches and Spanish Smiles
by A Drop of Starlight
Summary: And that was how he found himself at a beautiful Italian beach, exchanging happy little kisses with an affectionate Spaniard.


**~ Written as a present ~**

**Happy Birthday Michi!**

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**SUNNY BEACHES AND SPANISH SMILES**

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It was common knowledge that if Lovino Vargas had had a little more muscle and a little more authority he'd have been a drill sergeant. His fiery temper, scathing glare, and perpetually angry voice certainly weren't lacking in the slightest.

Everyone in the family said so, anyway.

"Pack your shit, find your potato bastard, bring the damn pasta and let's get moving! You won't be tanning your ass when the sun goes down!"

"But it's only six in the morning, _fratello_!" whined a certain Feliciano Vargas, burrowing ever deeper into his cocoon of covers even as they were being yanked away one by one. He screamed as light from the newly open window hit his eyes, forcing him awake from his pleasantly German dreams to face his very Italian brother.

Who did not look at all pleased.

"It was _your _idea, remember?" shouted the irate Lovino. "I have to fucking work in the afternoon! So get _up_!"

The last blanket, still stubbornly clutched in Feliciano's iron grip, was at last wrenched away, and the younger Italian let loose a loud wail before finally rising and following instructions. Shit was packed, a German named Ludwig Beilschmidt was called, and the pasta was at last brought along after a few taste tests. Lovino bad-temperedly drove the family car over bumps in the road and cursed the sun, the birds, the wind, and whatever else was unfortunate enough to pass by. Feliciano huddled in the back seat with his large German bodyguard and prayed for a safe, anger-free journey. At last they arrived at the beach, somewhat jostled but none the worse for wear, and got out.

"Don't make out or do any inappropriate crap when you're alone," Lovino growled. His brother giggled.

"But I won't be alone! I have my strong, handsome Luddy with me, remember?"

Lovino almost gagged as his brother and the potato bastard ran off together, blushing like idiots. They were too fucking happy for him. And happiness was disgusting—who needed it anyway?

Certainly not Lovino Vargas.

He sighed and began his long, solitary walk across the _fucking hot _sand under the _fucking hot _sun. Beaches were just miserable patches of heat and water where people went to exchange sappy displays of affection and have other fun. At least that was how Lovino saw it. Once upon a time he would have enjoyed cooling off in the water and mindless stuff like that, but something called growing up had happened and he was always too busy now to even _think_ about such things. Also the fact that he never really had anyone to spend that time _with_—

—No, he did _not _need any romantic connections like his brother did! They were just wastes of time.

And Lovino had no time for anyone else.

Or so he claimed.

Fortunately for the Italian, there was still one unoccupied patch of sand near the middle of the beach, where the sun struck the most mercilessly. Things improved the moment he set up his beach chair and umbrella, as a loud group of children promptly ran up to the neighboring family and proceeded to shatter the nonexistent quiet.

Covering his ears didn't work. Sending needle-sharp eye-daggers from the background didn't work. Silently imagining himself throwing tomatoes didn't work. That would be a waste of tomatoes, anyway. And he had no intention of wasting his precious time and energy to get up and shoo them away. Politeness was beyond him at the moment.

"Fuck this shit," he muttered and lay back on his beautifully badass beach chair to take in the sun.

Who cared about those kids. This was the closest thing to relaxation he had had in years and he wasn't going to pass it up on account of a few noisy little shits.

He closed his eyes.

"¡Hola!"

Lovino's eyes snapped open.

The first thing he saw was a huge shadow looming over him. The second thing he saw was a pair of mesmerizingly beautiful green eyes in that shadow. The third thing he saw was a glittering smile. Then came the delightfully tanned bare chest and his mind zoomed off into who-knows-where.

"Wh-who the hell are you!?" he spluttered and instinctively backed away, although there was nowhere else to go. "What do you want?"

"I just came here to say hi, mi amigo!"

An aggravatingly cheerful voice, an accent—most definitely Spanish. The newcomer slowly inched his way into the _already crowded space,_ intruding upon Lovino's large personal bubble and revealing just how—cough—_good-looking_ he actually was.

A better word for that would have been s—

_NO!_ a little voice in Lovino's head screamed.

_Sexy._

Hell yes.

"I haven't seen you around before!" said the jaw-droppingly hot Spaniard, extending a very strong, manly hand to a still-frozen Lovino. "I'm Antonio, by the way. What's your name?"

The Italian could not believe his luck.

"L-Lovino," he managed, still not touching the strong, manly hand.

"Lovino," repeated Antonio curiously, turning the name over with his tongue, then smiled. It was a very heart-stopping smile. "I've never heard that name before... Oh wait! I'll call you Lovi!"

"NO!"

"Why?"

"Just don't fucking call me that, _grazie."_

"All right, Lovi!"

"You fucking _asshole_! Now stop!"

Antonio seemed unfazed by his language, however. If anything he looked even happier and much more eager.

"It's a nice name though..."

A very angry Lovino groaned. "What in hell are you even doing here?"

"Oh, I don't work in hell"—Antonio flashed him another of those amazing smiles—"I work as a lifeguard. Here. It's my job to supervise the beach every day."

That still didn't explain why he had gone up to _Lovino, _of all people, but it cleared up a lot of things. Such as why he looked so tan and fit and very, very eye-catching. Lovino supposed it was a thing, with lifeguards. Already he could see his neighbors in the sand ogling Antonio as though they had never seen a Spaniard before.

"Then why aren't you fucking working?"

"I'm taking a break!" Antonio exclaimed, the Italian's foul mood passing right over his head. "And it's always lonely during breaks. Wanna walk with me?"

That was fast.

_Really _fast.

And _completely fucking unexpected._

"Uh—_what?"_ the Italian said dumbly.

"Oh, nothing much! You'll see." And without waiting for a further response the Spaniard grabbed Lovino's hand (!) and pulled him up out of his chair. Lovino tried his best not to notice how his muscles flexed as he did so, and how he _did not let go of Lovino's hand. _They went across the sand, which did not seem as hot to the Italian compared to the man walking beside him. Plus they were getting a generous number of stares.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening.

A complete stranger had just walked up to him and offered to spend some time with him and was now holding his hand like they were—um, old friends.

Yes, that was _exactly _what old friends did, damn it!

He felt his face warming anyway.

"Don't you just _love_ the beach, Lovi?"

"No, I fucking don't."

"Why?"

"Because it's lonely and shit. And you're calling me Lovi."

"But you're not lonely _now!"_

And the Spaniard had the audacity to give Lovino's hand a little squeeze, which was not fucking normal at all! What kind of friend did shit like that—come to think of it, since when had Antonio mentioned they were friends?

Lovino quickly pulled his hand away before any more intimate contact could occur.

"Hey, what was _that _for?" whined Antonio, grabbing for his hand again. The same thing happened three times in succession, with the Italian becoming progressively more flustered.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" he shouted, bad temper returning with full force as he realized the Spaniard had once again captured his hand in a vicelike grip. "I'm not your damn boyfriend! Fucking let go of me!"

"But you'll get lost and I won't be doing my job and—"

"I am not a fucking _baby_," growled Lovino, unsuccessfully trying to yank his hand free. "Now _stop _with this stupid shit or _else_—"

"Oh, the water looks so beautiful today! Let's go swimming!"

Lovino groaned as the surprisingly strong Spaniard promptly dragged him to the water's edge. What a jerk—what a real jerk in the true sense of the word. He wasn't even listening to a thing Lovino said! _And _he seemed to want Lovino to stay with him every second of the day.

Stupid asshole.

Then he realized he had a golden opportunity. Once he got into the water Antonio would be forced to let go of him, and then Lovino could tear through the water like a shark and leave this clingy Spanish presence for good! It was a most wonderful plan.

He certainly wouldn't miss the cheerful, eye-catching, scatterbrained lifeguard even for a moment. After all they had only spoken for a maximum of fifteen minutes. And that was not enough to develop an attraction.

No fucking way.

"Come _on, _Lovino!" urged Antonio, suddenly pulling him straight into the water. Lovino had barely just shouted a well-timed "Fuck you!" before the cold water introduced itself to his still-burning face and knocked all the breath out of him.

So much for a speedy escape, then.

"What _are _you doing, Lovi?"

It took several minutes for Lovino to realize he was still thrashing around in the water like a child. He could see Antonio several feet away, a suppressed expression on his face that could be anywhere from amused to _oh man, that guy looks ridiculous._

"I'm not fucking doing anything," he muttered, stopping.

"Then do something with me!"

Whether that was supposed to mean anything in particular, Lovino didn't care to ponder. The next thing he knew he was racing through the water as fast as he possibly could, and it felt absolutely wonderful. He was getting away, he was going to escape!

Distantly he heard the annoying Spaniard shout his name, and then another splash. Fuck, he must be trying to catch up to Lovino. But no matter, the badass Italian had a head start and he was going to get away successfully. Because aside from drill sergeant potential, he had practically lived in the water most of his life.

"Can't catch me!" he shouted happily above the water before diving back in, swimming for shore at top speed.

"Oh, I will, Lovi! Just you wait!"

The chase continued for what seemed to Lovino like ages, and he felt himself beginning to tire. But he found he was laughing as he swam, and that the heavy feeling which had accompanied him to the beach had largely vanished, to be replaced by something else. Something like lightheartedness.

He was having fun with this—_real_ fun.

And then Antonio caught up to him.

"Shit!" cried Lovino, redoubling his efforts to swim away, but his limbs were surprisingly fatigued and Antonio easily stopped him by grabbing ahold of his arm, pulling him upright in the water.

The Spaniard laughed breathlessly.

"See, I told you you wouldn't get away from me, Lovi."

They were only several yards from shore—oh, if only Lovino had swum faster, then he'd have been able to escape across the sand. And he'd never have to see Antonio again—his utmost desire.

It was hard to convince himself of this, however, when the man in question stood before him waist-deep in ocean, water still trickling down the appealing muscles of his arms and his attractively toned chest. Green eyes held Lovino in their thrall, and that tantalizing smile seemed to convey just a hint of a challenge, or perhaps a request.

He was still holding onto Lovino, and as the Italian stood frozen, he moved just a little bit closer.

And closer.

And closer still.

"You have nice eyes," he whispered.

"Shut up."

"You have a nice face."

"Shut the fuck up."

They were only inches apart.

"Do you never get such compliments, Lovi? Don't you like them?"

Two inches.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. What's it to you?"

"I like giving compliments where they're due."

One inch.

"I don't need them," said Lovino in a low voice. "Now shut the hell up."

"Why should I, Señor Foul-Mouth?"

"Because I fucking said so."

Antonio kissed him.

His lips were softer than Lovino had expected, and warmer, and perfect in every way. It didn't matter that they had only just met today and couldn't tell vital truths about each other to save their lives. This—whatever this was—it simply felt _right_. And Lovino, although his insides felt like they were full of butterflies, returned it and enjoyed it with something akin to passion that he had not experienced in years.

"Shouldn't have run from me," Antonio whispered against his mouth. "...Could have done this sooner..."

"...You're... such a dumbass."

Lovino pulled him closer, noting how he tasted of sea salt and something sweet that reminded him of tomatoes.

Thank the fucking heavens he had come to the beach today.

Eventually, and unfortunately, air became a valuable commodity and they separated just for a second. Antonio grinned at him with an expression that sent shivers down Lovino's spine.

"You liked that, huh? I could give you more if you want~!"

The Italian choked and pushed him away. "Wh-what the hell are you saying!? And you should be fucking working!"

Antonio's face fell for a moment.

"You don't want to see me anymore?"

"N-no, of _course _I do—I mean—"

Once more Antonio brightened, his green eyes lighting up as though he had just had a fabulous idea.

"Lovi, I know what you could do! You could go in the water and pretend you need help so I could jump in and save you! Or you could be my assistant lifeguard instead! How about it, hm?" He grabbed the grumbling Italian's arm pleadingly. "Por favor?"

Lovino groaned.

"_Fine."_

And that was how he found himself at a beautiful Italian beach, exchanging happy little kisses with an affectionate Spaniard.

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**Random Spamano aww yis :D**


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